This letter won¡¯t make it to you in time
|
Introverted by your distance from me, and by mine
|
But the chameleons who sift through the trees
|
Are garnering a bouquet in my head¡¯s faculties
|
And its filled with scales and perfumes wearing thin
|
There is no flaw in you, there is no sun on your skin
|
Where have you been all of my life?
|
I hear a lizard tongue above my head
|
Will you be my wife?
|
|
Skin and bones and things that make my heart beat
|
My possession my obsession, everything to me
|
The sound of your voice and all your fingertips
|
Is like a bible verse spilling right across your lips
|
|
Waiting for my bride no longer taking it¡¯s toll
|
Like a great horned owl swallowing fruit bats whole
|
Now that you¡¯re here I feel a presence that I didn¡¯t before
|
I feel your love I feel the warmth I¡¯m feeling so much more
|
No more stiff joints, no more skin dry and rigid
|
You¡¯re like a funnel in my heart
|
No longer artic and frigid
|
I¡¯m indebted to you, you are my only one
|
Straight from the breath of the almighty Father, Spirit and Son
|
|
Skin and bones and things that make my heart beat
|
My possession my obsession, everything to me
|
The sound of your voice and all your fingertips
|
Is like a bible verse spilling right across your lips
|
|
Skin and bones and things that make my heart beat
|
My possession my obsession, everything to me
|
The sound of your voice and all your fingertips
|
Is like a bible verse spilling right across your lips
|
|
Skin and bones and things that make my heart beat
|
My possession my obsession, everything to me
|
The sound of your voice and all your fingertips
|
Is like a bible verse spilling right across your lips
|
|
-----------------
|
Your Owls Are Hooting
|
| Showbread |
